


Plectere

by raininginjuly



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininginjuly/pseuds/raininginjuly
Summary: Geralt just really wants Regis to braid his hair.





	1. Roach

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801477) by [softestpunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk). 



The first time Geralt sees him braid hair is in the stables.

It’s a warm day-- not too humid out, the sun shining faintly in the dimming of the evening sky. Geralt enjoys taking the time to polish his swords on days like these, sitting on a wooden stool he made himself, where the peacefulness lulls him enough to feel _relaxed_ once in a while, and he knows he won’t have to kill anything today.

Regis stands a few feet away from him, tutting over Roach’s mane being knotted and covered in dirt and muck.

It’s endearing, Geralt has to admit, because the man is like some kind of fairytale prince; Regis loves animals and animals seem to love him, and he didn’t know if it was some kind of vampiric side-effect, or maybe just Regis’ natural charm. 

Geralt thinks that it must be the charm. It draws in more than just animals, in his qualified opinion.

Geralt sets his sword aside and watches him brush out Roach’s mane, staring up at Regis with his elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, as he coos to her lightly and cards through her now silky hair, and then notices Regis pick up strands of her mane and separate them.

His fingers weave through her hair intricately, and Geralt is entranced by those long pale fingers that gently tug the hair over and under until Geralt can see the intended braid form together.

“I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair.”

Regis briefly pauses, Geralt can tell he's smirking, but quickly continues his work. “Yes, well-- you tend to know how to make braids when you previously were masquerading, quite convincingly I might add, as a barber, dear heart.”

Geralt snorted, tucking strands of hair behind his ear. “Fair point,” he rises from the stool and saunters over to Regis, pressing a kiss to his temple, and wrapping an arm around his waist. The smell of mandrake and herbs hit Geralt instantly, the undeniable smell of his Regis. “Surprised you remembered how to braid, though. You don’t exactly have a lot of hair to practice with, even when we were in the _hansa_.”

Regis chuckled and leaned into Geralt’s touch, wrapping the few last strands of hair together tightly. “I _did_ have long hair, you wretched man, at one point in time. When I was still quite young. Horribly curly and a true nightmare to brush out, but I was told I was quite attractive. Those days are much behind us, however.”

“You still _are_ attractive, Regis. Maybe it’s that classic vampire allure that makes everyone fall for you.” Geralt feels Regis scoff, like he doesn’t really believe it, but he won’t tell Geralt otherwise.

“Did you braid it then?” Geralt nuzzles against Regis’ neck, inhaling his scent and feeling some soft wisps of Regis’ hair curl around his nose.

Regis hums in affirmation. “Occasionally I did,” he pauses, “but I didn’t refine my technique until practicing it onto others. The lack of a reflection in a mirror made it difficult, if you can imagine.” 

Geralt lifted his head up and looked and Roach’s mane. The braid was beautiful; collected along at the edge of her hair and expertly weaved, highlighting the different colors of light and dark hair, shining brilliantly amidst the setting sun and the hues of gold and orange.

Perhaps not for first time, though, Geralt desperately wants Regis to braid his hair.


	2. Ciri

The second time Geralt sees Regis braid hair is in the dining room.

Ciri had traveled by means of portal to pay the two of them a short visit at Corvo Bianco, feeling worn by travel and in need of substantial food and company for a night (or two).

The first thing Geralt had noticed about her was how different her hair was when she let it down. It had grown long from the few years that had passed thus far; it was beautiful and untamed, matching her personality in that aspect, and almost reached her midsection. The length wasn’t practical for her profession of choice, but Geralt couldn’t say much, else he be a hypocrite.

Geralt had heard the two of them in the dining room after returning home from the vineyard, Ciri sitting at the table with Regis behind her, brushing out the tangles and knots in her hair. From the look of slight dismay on Regis’ face, Geralt could tell it was the first time in a long time that Ciri had her hair brushed.

Regis’ state of concentration was briefly broken by the entrance of Geralt. He flashed him a toothy smile and gestured for him to be seated to the chair next to Ciri. Geralt complied.

“Geralt!” Ciri’s eyes shone brightly as he sat. “You missed dinner. B.B. was getting worried.”

“He’s worried about me all the time, Ciri. I’ll be fine. I have a higher vampire at my side, not like I have much to be scared of now.” Regis gave him a look and Geralt smiled back.

Ciri huffed. “Regis and I were discussing vampire society while you were away. Those books Vesemir made me read mentioned nothing about how intricate it is.”

Regis divided her hair to begin his work. “Most humans who write those books rarely achieve the intimacy of an… unbreakable vampiric bond such as the one between Geralt and myself to ever know about vampiric lifestyles. In fact, I would wager most of those witchers who had written the informational books about vampires had only learned the most vital points of interest in ways of destroying them.”

Ciri hummed in agreement and Geralt watched as Regis returned to a firm state of concentration once again. He could tell Regis was about to start a lecture but didn’t exactly feel compelled to stop him, because Regis would surely bring about another perspective Geralt hadn’t previously considered before.

Geralt kind of loved it when he went on long rants, about anything and everything. Despite how much they learned about and from each other, Regis was still secretive. He didn’t want to Geralt to learn more about whatever socially abhorrent (in the eyes of human standards) actions his kind or he himself had committed in the past, perhaps thinking it would drive Geralt away. Make him disgusted at who he truly is, behind the guise of humanity, despite being assured repeatedly that Geralt could never despise him.

Geralt would lie if he said he hadn’t felt the same feelings Regis had. Being a witcher meant trading your own piece of humanity for something more, something carnal and visceral and something that left one with no identity for themselves to form, knowing you were only made as a sort of destructive force. 

So now, when he looked up at Regis; a homely-looking older gentleman who, right now, was the very picture of domesticity, braiding his daughter’s hair, Geralt couldn’t help but feel Regis was showed more _humanity_ than most actual humans did in their lifetimes.

Ciri broke Geralt’s detached line of thoughts and brought him back to reality. “Where were we before Geralt came in?”

“The hierarchy of vampire societies, I believe.”

“Right, then. Go on.”

Regis took a moment to clear his throat before continuing to weave Ciri’s hair.

“As I was previously saying, vampires are divided into the categories of higher and lower. It’s similar to the human concept of an economic and social hierarchy, where the higher humans such as kings and lords are served by the lower humans, such as peasants and serfs. Unlike human society however, a lower vampire has the genetic instinct to serve the higher vampires. They cannot revolt, or develop feelings of rebellion in the respect a human can when they feel they are being unfairly treated by their lords. As such, the vampire caste system is permanent and unmoving. Lower vampires cannot rise above their superiors because, biologically, it simply isn’t possible.”

Regis finished one braid, and moved his fingers to the next section of hair. Geralt noticed he was biting down on his lip slightly, the point of a fang visible. Regis continued.

“Vampiric society is a complex and powerful form of social control; human nobles misuse their power, of course, but higher vampires can misuse their powers with the additional form of predation that comes with the label of a vampire. I feel vile using vampiric powers of manipulation on others at the _best_ of times, but most higher vampires see no need to stifle their abilities in order to attach to their respective structure to commence this predation. It’s similar to the story Geralt had told you of Orianna, for instance. The orphanage was the host and Orianna herself was the parasitic signifier feeding off of it.”

Ciri looked as though she was digesting all of this information in case she needed to use it at some point, and Geralt couldn’t help but feel a small burst of pride because of it. 

Regis sighed contently as he tied the remaining hair together at the end with a leather strap. “I’ve never worked on hair so long before. This was quite a challenge, especially when you neglect to wash and brush your hair, love.”

Ciri scoffed and turned around to see Regis smiling mischievously. “I’ve washed it out a few times! Besides,” a faint blushed creeped on her features, “I’ve been busy traveling back and forth to Skellige all month.”

“I’m sure Cerys has very important duties for you,” Regis said and gently patted the top of her head. Ciri’s face only further reddened.

Regis shuffled over to where Geralt was sitting, picked up his hand, and lovingly placed a kiss on top of it. “It’s rather late,” he said, in a distinct tone that only Geralt could recognize as Regis wanting the two of them to be alone for nocturnal activities. “We should all get some rest, hm?” 

Ciri rolled her eyes and smiled, leaving the two of them alone while she went upstairs to the guest room. 

Later, embraced in bed, when Regis gently combed his fingers through Geralt’s pale locks and kissed his forehead, all Geralt could think as he drifted into sleep was how Regis’ fingers felt twisted up in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so bad LMFAO i felt inspired by vampire politics so i had to write this foolery out

**Author's Note:**

> suck dick sell drugs eat ass


End file.
